


lull before the storm

by lettuceduck



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Begging, Belly Kink, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Eating out, Established Relationship, Gun Kink, Half Life Kink Meme, M/M, Praise Kink, Trans Sex, Trans porn by a trans author, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27207310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettuceduck/pseuds/lettuceduck
Summary: after a combine ambush, barney and gordon rest at an abandoned resistance hide-out. they end up doing more than resting.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	lull before the storm

**Author's Note:**

> gordon is selectively mute. however, he is comfortable with barney, so he talks. he doesn't around strangers / stressful situations.
> 
> they're both trans.
> 
> this is for the half life kink meme, which popped up just as i finished half life lol.

Panting fills the musty space. The room barely has medical equipment to spare. "Here, doc," Barney breaths, tossing Gordon a health vial from the cabinet. He slumps against the wall, hand pressed to his bloody abdomen. Most of it belongs to Combine Overwatch, but a bullet did graze him. Just his luck. Fortunately, it's minor, meaning they can get moving quicker. He doesn't want to linger. The ambush was small, seemingly prepared on a whim, but may summon more forces. He isn't averse to a five minute break, though.

Barney's head thuds against the wall, a loud sigh escaping him. He reaches blindly for the cabinet's contents, but startles as his hand meets metal. Instinctively, he reaches for his gun, but a hand stops him. It's just Gordon. He huffs. "Don't scare me like that. How can a walking tin still be as silent as a mouse?" Gordon shrugs, but points to his wound. "That? It's nothing, Gordon." His reply is a frown, and Gordon is holding a medkit. "...You don't gotta waste that ---" He's shut up by a gloved finger smushing his lips. Barney turns his head away with a scoff. "All I need is a vial and a bandaid. Not all th ---" He winces as Gordon presses a hand on his side. It retracts, and Gordon has with apologetic eyes. Barney frowns. He rolls his shoulders and sits up, but a hand stops him from moving further.

"Gordon ---" He begins, but Gordon forces his mouth shut. He narrows his eyes as he opens the medkit. _Stubborn bastard,_ he can't help but think fondly. The Freeman is known for his perseverance, no matter how small the task is. Barney allows him to dab the area with a cloth, then apply disinfect, which brings a hiss. "Gordon, that ain't necessary ---" Gordon shuts his jaw. Again. He flares his nostrils, but allows Gordon to continue. The area is dabbed again, cleaning messily applied disinfect. He works on the grime surrounding the area as well. He then leans down to inspect the wound, and Barney heaves a sigh. He's ignored, as expected. He jumps as Gordon's gloved thumb settles right above it, and immediately there's a sad face in front of his. Barney pushes him back, patting his shoulder. "Think you're forgettin' some of us are human, _Messiah."_ His stomach is swat and Barney laughs. There's a beat of no movement but before Barney can ask, a hand is running over his belly. Barney furrows his brows and looks at Gordon, who has his own knitted. Concentration is evident in his eyes, in his pursed lips.

"Uh... Gordon, I _am_ bleeding, y'know."

He gets an absent hum in response. The hand settles on his midsection and rubs a thumb back and forth.

"I didn't take you for a nurse." Barney deadpans.

This time, no response. Gordon scoots forward, the hand reaching over to feel around his stomach. Barney shifts, frowning, eyes flickering to his friend, who _may_ of lost his mind, to the hand keen on his stomach. "Gordon." He tries, but gets nothing. The man's in thought. Barney huffs and reaches for the cotton ball to dab his wound, but a hand forces his down. Barney looks up, sees Gordon still focused on his stomach, but keeping his hand down. Barney's dumbfounded _and_ irritated. "Gordon." He tries again, but the man remains fixated on his stomach. "Gordon!" He shouts, and the other jolts, blinking and looking at him like a kicked puppy. "I'm _bleeding."_ He nods to the area. "And you're keeping me from helping myself." Gordon shakes his head. He has the decency to look embarrassed.

Gordon dabs the area clean, pauses, then applies _more_ disinfect. Barney swears through clenched teeth. "Gordon, we _need_ to get a move on." His response is a head shake. He groans in frustration, frowning at the ceiling as Gordon yet again cleans smudges, and the area. Thankfully, he doesn't get distracted by his stomach again. Once the bandaid is applied, Barney moves to get up, but stays in place by a hand on his shoulder. He glares at the other, ready to complain, but pauses. Intense concentration, yet again, shows on his features. Gordon wordlessly scoots closer, knees brushing against Barney's thigh. He feels up his stomach again. All complaints die on his tongue as a puff of warm breath grazes his ear. Still, he squirms. Gordon wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, head on his bicep. The odd affection has him pliant as a doll, which Gordon seems content with. Gordon's chin rests atop his head, hand now _massaging_ his stomach. Barney groans, embarrassed.

"I don't need a _massage,_ Gordon." His tense muscles say otherwise.

Gordon's hand is still, and Barney hopes he'll listen. Then he's pressing the heel of his palm in, moving it back and forth. A content sigh out escapes Barney. His eyes flutter shut as Gordon handles him, but blow open when he _squeezes_ a meaty part of him. He jerks away, furrowing his brows. "Gordon, I got _bruises."_ Barney protests. "What's with you?" He crosses his arms. "You've been acting strange..."

"Bad strange?" Gordon asks with a head tilt.

Barney shrugs. "Not really, but ---"

"Can I continue?"

Barney is aware frowning causes wrinkles, but he can't help it when the enigma beside him seems so... keen on, what, _feeling him up?_ It's not bad, he hasn't had gentle touch in awhile, but they need to move.

"I'm checking for wounds you're hiding on me." Gordon then says, confusion dropping to his signature passiveness. "And don't say you aren't, because I don't believe that."

 _I don't believe you're checking for wounds,_ he wants to bite back, but holds his tongue. Barney sighs, shifting to make himself comfortable, and looks back to the ceiling. "Fine." He grumbles, and Gordon swings a leg over his. "Woah."

"Better angle." He says casually.

"Right..." Barney mutters, closing his eyes.

Gordon's hands are gentle, barely there, like a ghost or the wind. He's not sure what Gordon's getting out of this, but... He's not complaining. Much. Being so depraved of intimacy makes him melt. Embarrassing. A quiet sigh leaves him as Gordon massages yet again. Whatever he's doing, it's fine by Barney. A five minute can be a fifteen, he deserves it. However, his relaxation is yet again interrupted by another squeeze.

"Gordon!"

"What?"

"Why are you --- don't _squeeze."_

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because...?"

Barney blinks, and is suddenly aware of his heated face. He turns away, arms crossing over his chest. _"Because."_

Gordon huffs a laugh, and squeezes again.

_"Hey!"_

"Hi."

Another squeeze. Gordon is leaning closer, smiling in amusement. Barney blush deepens and he squirms. Another squeeze, and Barney pouts at him. Another squeeze, this time at his navel. Barney jumps and swats at his hands, gaining another laugh. He's back to massaging. Barney's arms unfold and rest by his side, and once again he's relaxing. Time passes, though he's not sure how much, when he no longer feels Gordon. He cracks an eye open and finds the man's hands hovering over his abdomen, chewing his lip, forehead creasing. Conflict, and a hint of embarrassment, is evident. Before he could speak, the hands trace his stomach's outline.

Barney's eyes follow his hands, watching them separate to feel both sides at once. They stutter, rubbing against the clothed flesh, and Barney leans back. Doing this, he realizes a pair of eyes are watching him watch Gordon. He looks into emerald eyes --- with flecks of brown, he can't help but note. He looks away. The hands don't stop. Barney isn't sure if he wants them to, now. There's a face in front of him, prior debate gone, replaced by smugness. Oh, the bastard _enjoys_ his embarrassment? "Jackass." He huffs. His response is a breathy laugh, and he hates how his heart flips at the light sound. Gordon's thumbs dig in, and Barney makes an emasculating squeak. Another laugh, another heart flip. "Cute." Gordon remarks. Barney wrinkles his nose, but says nothing.

"I mean it." He says, then palms the area between his crotch and navel roll.

"S - stop that." Barney hates how he stutters, hates how warm his face is.

Gordon quirks a brow. He leans closer, hands trailing to his sides and squeezes.

"Hey!"

There's no response, and Barney is officially unsettled. Gordon's concentrated expression, his tendency to be silent, raises hairs. Every squeeze increases the tingly heat in his body, until it boils over and harbors in his stomach. Sparks run down his spine, and he hates how Gordon analyzes every shift in his expression. He can't hide his growing arousal, not with how his face is red, not with how his pupils dilate. Gordon's widen. Damn him for being intelligent. He knows. His hands stutter, then squeeze more frequently. He leans closer, and they're exchanging breaths. Still, Barney can't look away. He doesn't think he wants to, despite his embarrassment.

It's silent, save for Barney's unsteady breathing picking up, hitching, and the faint sound of rustling fabric. Gordon's leaning even closer, their noses almost touching. They're exchanging air. Barney breaks from his trance. He looks away, eyes closed and pouting. Something in Gordon also breaks, because he's exhaling shakily. "You look good." He whispers; words reserved for Barney only, words not even the air can carry. "Like this. You look really good. Cute. Same Barney, different times, different uniforms." The way he _growls_ the last word has Barney swallowing the lump in his throat. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You know how the security uniform made me... Wish this one wasn't associated with the combine. Makes you look really good, especially when you stand straight, hands on your hips..." He licks his lips, and Barney can see his eyes dilate. "Delicious."

"Uh-huh?"

"Uh-huh. _Uh-huh._ You're such a brat all the time, already makes me listen, but this uniform? God. I can't _help_ but listen. If you told me to shoot myself in the foot, I would."

Barney snorts. "I wouldn't."

"But I would. If you said so."

"That's not sexy, Gordon." He deadpans.

Gordon growls, and Barney gulps. His hands squeeze his sides, running up and down, wrinkling the fabric. Barney is, suddenly, aware of the height difference. Not only is Gordon a foot taller and-then-some, but he's on his knees, meanwhile Barney's on his ass at a measly 5"6'. Gordon's looming makes his stomach twist, and the heat in his stomach boils over. He can _feel_ it. A whimper leaves him, and he involuntarily closes his thighs. Gordon's sharp intake has him wishing the ground would swallow him whole, especially when his hands _pry his thighs apart_ and focuses on his crotch. Barney risks a glance, and Gordon is openly admiring a wet spot. He whimpers again, through his teeth. The warmth on his knees is gone.

"Are you okay?" Gordon asks softly, concern laced in every word. "We don't have to do anything... We can stop, it's okay, really."

Barney scoffs, eyes wide, nose wrinkled, lips parted in disbelief. "Do _you_ want to fight the Combine hard?"

Gordon blinks, then frowns slightly. "I'm not hard."

A lie. His eyes are wide, dilated, focused, and Barney knows how Gordon gets when he's hot and bothered. He wrings out noises and feels everything he can, just like now. Regardless, Barney's embarrassed. Gordon's merely indulging _Barney._ Obviously, this started because of him. Humiliation pours like scathing water over him, burning the tip of his ears and flushing down his neck, yet arousal rises to rivals it. "Are you sure you want to continue?" Gordon's voice snaps him to reality. He huffs.

 _"Yes,_ obviously." Barney snaps.

"Then we'll need a safe word."

"Yea --- wait, huh?"

Gordon chuckles. "So I know when you really want to stop. You're always pushy about taking precautions, anyway."

Barney blinks, then swallows. "That makes sense..." He pauses, eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling. "...Casserole."

_"Casserole?"_

"Nothing makes me drier than a desert than the mention of Magnusson."

Gordon's guffaw startles Barney, but has him chuckling along. Gordon laughs, and laughs, and rests his forehead on Barney's shoulder. A pang of pride runs through Barney. He gasps as Gordon's hands start up again, this time massaging his thighs. He lifts his head, their noses now touching, and Barney can see those green eyes sparkle with fondness, crinkled by an all-too-soft smile. Then they flicker to his lips, smile dropping as he focuses, and licks his own. Gordon looks up at Barney, who sighs dramatically. "We _made_ a safe word, you can ---" Gordon captures Barney's lips. Fingertips trail to his inner thighs, and he's thankful for the safe word. Leave it to Gordon to be the responsible one. He's rough, pressing Barney's head against the wall, biting his lip, sucking on it, making his rusty self gasp and whine. He's not complaining, though, not now. He's soaking up the touch.

His pants are also soaking. Gordon presses a finger to his crotch, causing a gasp and his legs to clamp instinctively. Little has touched there in a long, long time. Gordon pulls away from the kiss, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he once again pries his thighs apart. He pauses, then settles himself between them, wrapping his legs around the suit. The clunky metal digs into him, but Barney finds himself uncaring. He looks up at Gordon, wide eyed, lips parted in surprise, and Gordon takes advantage to shove in his tongue. Barney groans, pitch raising as Gordon presses his finger into his crotch again.

Barney shudders and groans, bucking into his touch. Gordon presses another finger, massaging the area. He winches his eyes shut, imagining the tongue invading his mouth between his folds instead. The imagery, and Gordon's work below, wrings a loud moan. Gordon pulls back, eyes wide and curious, cheeks red, mouth open in quiet pants. His gaze falls to Barney's crotch, still teasing, and Barney feels himself getting frustrated.

"Do something _else!"_ Barney barks.

"I like seeing the fabric stretch over your thighs. They're so fat, it's memorizing to watch." It's so casually _blunt._ Barney shuts up.

The silence is, again, prominent. It may be tension. Barney's heavy breathing and quiet moans barely breach the atmosphere. Gordon's hands leave and he whines. Gordon chuckles. "I'm just checking out your belt." He murmurs, deft fingers tracing the dark leather, tugging on the loops, gripping the buckle roughly, and feeling around his waist until his hands meet on his back.

"Are you going to use it?" Barney asks.

"Maybe. If it fits in with my plans."

"Are you going to tell me them?"

"Yes, but not now."

"'Course." Barney rolls his eyes.

Gordon kisses his cheek, then tugs off his gloves. He resumes feeling Barney's uniform, neglecting his arousal. It doesn't take long for him to complain. Gordon, seemingly, has a sixth sense. It tells him precisely when Barney's going to open his big mouth. He surges forward so suddenly Barney can't help but flinch. "Sorry." Gordon murmurs in his ear, peppering it with kisses. Barney sighs softly, melting under the touch. "'S kay." He replies. Gordon trails down the side of his head, until reaching his jawline where he bites down, teeth hooking around the prominent bone. Barney yelps.

"What the hell are you into, doc?" Barney wonders aloud.

"You." Instant; low.

He shuts him. Gordon bites along his jawline until reaching his stubble, where he rubs his forehead against it, his nose, then his goatee. Barney can't see pass the fair, scarred face, and he wouldn't want to try. Those piercing eyes focus on him, filled no doubt like his own. Gordon _licks_ a stripe from his jaw to his brow ridge. He must taste like dirt and sweat, but, apparently, Gordon's into it. What he _wishes_ Gordon was into was _hurrying up._ "Gordon, come on, touch me already." The taller man pulls away, looming, sending a stern look. His belt is quickly undone, but the eye contact never ceases. Barney tilts his chin, sending his bravest look back. Hands are on the hem of his shirt and uniform, and expertly pull them up and off in a swift motion. Barney makes a strangled noise of surprise. He looks at Gordon, and sees him licking his lips, eyes laser focused on his weight. Abruptly, he _slaps_ his stomach.

Barney jolts, and Gordon does it again. "I like the jiggle." He explains, working his sixth sense. Another slap, harder. "Very cute." Dimly, Barney wonders how it would feel if he slapped _with_ the gloves. He knows the answer already. His calloused hands work, though. Gordon gropes his stomach again, drinking in the sight. Barney moans, quiet, and Gordon bucks his hips against him. _"Gordon ---"_

"Hands together." Gordon growls out in a low voice. Barney instantly complies. "On your back. Crossed." Barney instantly replies. Gordon leans forward, hard, _hungry_ eyes in his face as he expertly ties his hands without looking. Barney gives an experimental tug, and nods. Gordon kisses his forehead, brushing hair behind his ears. "Lift your hips." Softer, no growl, but still low. Barny instantly replies. Gordon tugs his pants off and feel from his knees to his outer thighs, to his inner thighs, to where his thigh meets fold. Barney's heart pounds in his chest, and he bucks his hips. Gordon slaps his stomach with more force than the others combined, causing Barney to cry out and hiss through clenched teeth. _"Bad."_ Gordon growls again.

"S-sorry, sir." He squeaks out without filtering.

Gordon pauses, and Barney sees him cocking his head considerately. "Only call me sir or Gordon. The only other word you can say is please."

Barney opens his mouth but pauses. He nods. "Sir."

Gordon grins, showing teeth, and briefly kisses him. "Good boy." He spreads his own legs, forcing Barney's apart. "Now stay still." He reaches behind him, but pauses. "...And the safe word, if necessary."

Barney nods.

"What's the safe word?"

Barney blinks, then sighs at earlier-him's idiocy. Gordon's stifling a laugh. _"Casserole."_

Gordon nods. "Such a good boy."

His hands return, holding a pistol. Barney brows knit, lips open as he watches Gordon aim it in a safe direction, switch the safety on, and casually unload it. Gordon, noticing his gawking, merely shrugs. "H-E-V takes too long to take off, and it's not like there's straps around to fuck you with. So... I'm fucking you with the grip." 

The bluntness yet again effects Barney majorly, making him whimper and arch his back, closing his eyes. "Look at me while i'm talking to you." Gordon growls, and Barney does. Heated disappointed. Barney knows it's a facade but it still makes him whimper again. "Stop pushing your luck, _Calhoun._ You're able to be a good boy, you've shown that."

Barney nods. "Sir."

"Yes, yes you can. So..." The gun is flipped.

"Be." Handled by the barrel.

 _"One."_ Gordon grin stretches to his ears, all teeth.

Barney's eyes close and he braces for the insertion.

"I need to prep you." Gordon deadpans after a moment.

Barney snorts.

"Shut up." Gordon's dominant demeanor falters.

Barney merely shrugs and nods to his cunt. Gordon's falls to his stomach, moving Barney's legs over his shoulders. He breaths on Barney's cunt, relishing his whimper. He licks the space where thigh meets fold, tracing the lips, then dives in. Barney throws his head back with a loud moan. He's being _touched._ With vigor. Gordon flicks his tongue, lapping like a dog, and Barney files that comparison for later. His tongue wiggles and squirms, touching all it can reach. The wall hurts his head every time he slams into it, but it merely adds to the experience. He moans, breathy and broken, and hisses a curse when Gordon adds a finger. He winces. It takes everything not to buck into Gordon, knowing he would only hurt himself _and_ be a bad boy.

"Please..." Barney whimpers once he's adjusted.

Gordon wordlessly obliges, and works down to the knuckle. He pulls his tongue away and adds another. He scissors Barney, licking his lips at the sight of his dripping cunt. Barney throws his head back, a long moan leaving him. He feels lips, teeth, and tongue over his jugular. Every inch of flesh has saliva or hickies covering it. A third finger. Gordon picks up the pace. "F --" Barney bites his lip, hands clenching. "Sir, sir _please."_ A bite. "Please, sir. Please, please please. Please, Gordon." Barney whimpers. A fourth, and he _mewls._

Minutes pass. Then, a brief kiss. _"Pleeeeeeaase,_ sir." Barney whines, and they pull out. The feeling has him uncomfortably empty, but it fades as Gordon picks up the gun. He grips the handle and uses a slick finger to spread Barney's cunt. Excitement courses through him. Every move has him bracing for insertion. He licks his lips and lifts his hips. Gordon growls, and Barney resumes his exact position. "Sir..." He mumbles, shame in his voice. "No," Gordon says thickly. "No, that's good. Good boy."

Barney peers at Gordon's face. His eyes are wide, filled with hunger, arousal, and _pride._ Involuntarily, he bucks his hips, and Gordon pushes in harshly. _"Gordon!"_ He shouts, and the grip is fully submerged into his wet heat. Barney groans, eyes squeezed closed, mouth open and silently panting. It takes him far too long to realize Gordon's waiting for his permission. "Please, Gordon." He moans softly, head falling back. Hot breath is on his neck, and following is the gun sliding out. Before he could complain, Gordon _bites_ his neck, breaking skin, and _slams_ the gun into him. Barney _howls,_ motivating Gordon into a brutal pace. He twists the gun, scratching the trigger against his clit. Barney knows he's going to be sore. He also knows Gordon is biting places he can't cover.

"Please --- sir, si-- _rrr,_ plea--pleee _eeee_ ase, ah --- _uhn_ \--- sir, Gordon, G--God, don't -- don'tfucking _stop_ please --- PLEASE ---"

Gordon trails kisses to his ear. "Wish I had a strap. Would love to fuck you with that instead of this gun. Would _love_ to take this suit off and make you suck my dick. Maybe I'd let you eat me out... You're so hot like this, Barney, being put in your place. All that bitching and brattiness finally got you... I guess not dicked down, but close to it. Hah. You're getting close, aren't you?"

Gordon abruptly stops. Barney cracks open an eye, then blows both open as Gordon presses the middle of his crowbar into his throat. The cold metal is a stark contrast to the heat engulfing him. It digs in, and Gordon begins his punishing pace again. Barney chokes out moans rapidly, eyes rolling into his head. He's so close, the heat is unbearable, he wants to cum _so_ bad. The crowbar presses harder. God, he's being choked by Gordon Freeman's crowbar. It sounds like an awful innuendo, but instead of laughing, he whimpers. It's strangled like all other sounds. Spots dot his vision, and he whimpers again.

"Cum to breath." Gordon's voice is in his ear, low and growled. He outlines his ear with a lick. The metal against his throat, the gun smashing into him, Gordon's smell --- everything pushes him to the edge. He screams Gordon's name, strangled and hoarse, and drags out a high-pitched moan. Barney comes over the grip, his hand, the floor, and between his thighs. It's the best orgasm he's had... ever. He gulps down air as the crowbar retracts, and Gordon is ruffling his hair. "Good boy." He coos, kissing his forehead, then moving away. Barney's head falls, watching cum drip out of his pussy. The grip finally leaves, causing one last spurt.

Gordon throws the unusable gun aside, and plops down in front of Barney, his own legs spread. He gently places the crowbar beside him. He bangs on the chest plate and a panel opens. Without taking his eyes off Barney's wrecked self, he pushes a few glowing buttons. The suit comes alive with a hum, and Gordon groans. Barney sluggishly blinks at him.

"It's jacking me off." Gordon explains with a breathy laugh. "Fucking me. Has a dildo --- no idea why... Just stay still, the sight of you is fucking _hot._ "

_... It can do that?_


End file.
